


robbers

by idleteen



Category: One Direction (Band), The 1975 (Band)
Genre: M/M, based off the robbers music video, robbers, they love each other a little too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:57:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idleteen/pseuds/idleteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s got nineteen years of Memphis in his blood, but if you cut right down to the bone you’d scrape against the fingerprints twenty-three year old hands have left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	robbers

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off of the music video for robbers by the 1975 which is kind of amazing and i didn't do it justice here, but anyway you should definitely see it if you haven't already!

Harry’s got nineteen years of Memphis in his blood, but if you cut right down to the bone you’d scrape against the fingerprints twenty-three year old hands have left behind. Matty’s got Harry in the front seat of his car exactly nine days after they first meet, windows down, suitcases filling the trunk. Tennessee turns into Arkansas in a flash and Matty’s hands press rebellion into Harry’s collarbones; they stop into roadside gas stations and kiss in front of glass fridges full of cherry coke bottles. Matty’s all teeth and fire, and Harry’s beginning to feel like his blood is equal parts Memphis and gasoline; Matty’s flames spread like wildfire through his veins and Harry can feel the Tennessee dissolving right out of them. He thinks that maybe home only runs in your blood until you find a new one.

 

***

They stay in dim motel rooms and Harry dances when he’s had too much to drink. Matty stands on a little coffee table in the middle of the room, a bottle in one hand, and pulls Harry’s face to his; kissing him in the slow way he seems to do everything but live.

 

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Matty drawls and Harry blushes because the Tennessee boys never used to kiss him like that, and their voices never gave him goosebumps, and their mouths never tasted like sin. Matty’s got his hands in Harry’s curls and his lips at his ear.

 

“Lets do something fun,” and Harry’s mother told him that if he ever did drugs he shouldn’t bother coming home.

 

But Harry’s already forgotten the way back to Memphis.

***

 

When they get to Arizona, Matty calls it home. Harry can see him in every corner of the dusty desert, and even more when they get to Phoenix. Matty takes him to a diner and Harry writes him notes on the papery napkins in red pen; Matty tucks them away into his coat pocket and follows Harry into the dimly lit bathroom hallway. He’s got his hands on Harry’s hips and his back against the wall and he’s kissing him with all the fire the hot Arizona desert planted in him. 

 

“I’m gonna make you so happy, baby, so happy. Tell me what you want—anything—I’ll get you anything you want,” Matty presses his lips to his neck, and Harry’s only got heaven on his mind. “God Harry, what were you doing in Tennessee, why did your roots grow so far from mine? Baby, I can already feel them tangling together, we’re gonna be trippin’ over each other for the rest of our lives. I promise baby, I promise.” Harry drops his head into Matty’s shoulder and trails his mouth up along his jaw in a silent answer. He promises too.

 

***

 

Matty’s got a finger on the trigger and the barrel at Harry’s head; his smile’s wide and wild and Harry can’t help but flinch.

 

“You know that’s not funny,” Harry sounds like his mother. Matty turns the gun sideways, and takes a swig out of the bottle in his hand.

 

“Come on, baby. You wanna play Russian roulette?” Matty turns the gun towards his own head, his eyes bright.

 

“No, I don’t,” and Harry can already smell the metal of the gun and already feel the shot ringing out. “I’m leavin’ if you don’t put that thing away.” Matty trades the gun for Harry’s hipbone and pulls him in.

 

“Don’t be like that,” he lifts Harry’s hand to his mouth, and kisses his wrist, and he can’t help but smile. “We’re gonna be happy, baby; I’m gonna take care of you.” Harry’s laughing now, and Matty’s got the bottle at his lips and everything feels like it always has; like nothing else ever could. Their kiss tastes like hard liquor and bad intentions and Harry craves it like a drug.

 

***

  

Matty’s friends come over for poker and stay for whiskey. Harry shares Matty’s cigarette and drinks so much he dances and Matty runs his fingers down his sides when everyone else has gone home. He pushes a bottle to Harry’s lips and kisses him slow; and maybe this is what forever feels like. Harry wonders if this is everything, or nothing at all; and if the idea scares him he a little, he tries not to let it show.

 

 

***

 

They rob the gas station with nothing but a bandana and a gun. Harry laughs as he empties the cash register and Matty kisses him over the counter with freedom running in his blood. They don’t expect the gunshot, but Harry sees the bullet slide into Matty’s ribs and he can hear himself screaming.

 

Harry’s bones shake with the weight of another’s body on them while he drags Matty to the van and the world is pulsing. Blood soaks through thin shirt fabric and Harry’s hands push against the open wound. Everything is hot and loud and the colour is angry as it drips down his wrists.

 

“It’s gonna be okay, baby, I’ll take care of you,” Harry’s voice feels buried inside his lungs and Matty cries out loud enough for the desert to tremble.

 

They make it to the motel with blood-stained hands and quick breaths tucked beneath their skin and Harry is so so terrified. The bathroom is dirty but so are his fingertips as he stitches Matty up and tries not to think about dipping his fingers inside the wound—feeling what it’s like to be twenty-three and fearless.

 

The money is in their pockets and on the floor and in the bathtub but Harry would rather be dirt poor than lost. Matty’s fingers drag across his flushed cheeks and grab his chin, staining him the same colour as his torn-up shirt before pushing his thumb into his mouth. He tastes like salt and sweat and he never imagined he’d fall in love like this.

 

When they kiss it sparks like the lighter buried in Matty’s pocket and Harry feels like he’s on fire. They continue until their lips are raw and Harry’s hips are sore from the pressure of bloody fingers. Matty grabs a handful of cash from the sink and tosses it above their heads, eyes wide and marvelling and they can’t help but smile.

 

“We did it, baby,” Matty murmurs, running his fingers through his hair, “Got enough to take care of you, enough to drive you to the city of angels and buy you something almost as pretty as you are.”

 

Harry’s mouth is against his chest, his arms around his waist, “We’re gonna be happy.”

 

Matty rakes through his boy’s curls and kisses him in all of the right places, “I’m gonna make you happy.”


End file.
